The Halfling
by Aate
Summary: For the sake of an important agreement between Thorin and a visiting dwarven lord, Bilbo fails to tell Thorin that he is being harassed by the dwarf lord's son. AU: everyone lives, Thilbo slash. Xenophobia.
1. Chapter 1

Bilbo had just turned a page on his new book to begin the third chapter of _The Wind, the Grass and the Story of Delicious Apples_ by Burfus Barfus, when Thorin marched in, kicked the door closed with one swift kick and proceeded to take off his clothes with stiff, impatient movements. Grumbling to himself, Thorin unbuckled his belt and lowered Orcrist down onto the floor next to the door, before practically wrenching his cloak off. As Bilbo watched, the furry cloak, the leather boots, the shirt and the trousers went all flying around the chamber with various thumps and rustles, accompanied by dwarvish swearwords and a few hobbit ones as well, the ones Thorin had heard Bilbo using once or twice.

Sighing to himself, Bilbo took the red piece of thread he used as a book mark and placed it carefully between the pages, before closing the book and putting it down onto the nightstand. He didn't have time to do much else after that, as the naked king was already clambering into the bed, climbing determinedly on top of him.

"I need gratification," Thorin said almost apologetically. "Would you gratify me, Bilbo, or should I do it by myself?"

Bilbo frowned, taking in Thorin's appearance. Judging from Thorin's tense shoulders, the negotiations with the dwellers of the Granite Mountain were not going smoothly at all. Bilbo had met Lord Bildan briefly, when the pompous dwarf had first arrived, but after that the lord and his dwarves had stayed mostly in their guest chambers, only making quick appearances to ask for food and slightly longer ones to negotiate. Bilbo knew that Thorin was determined to form a treaty with Lord Bildan in case Erebor came under attack. The treaty was all about reciprocal aid, an "Agreement of Friendship and Mutual Assistance", as Thorin wanted to see that the lives of his people and the kingdom he would one day leave to Fili were protected as well as possible. No dragon, nor any other enemy, would force dwarves to leave their home ever again, if it depended on Thorin.

Unfortunately, it didn't depend solely on Thorin and apparently things weren't progressing nearly as well as everyone in Erebor had hoped they would.

There wasn't much Bilbo could do to help, but at least there was one thing.

"I'm all yours," Bilbo said, relaxing his muscles under Thorin's heavy form, and Thorin burrowed his face into the hollow of Bilbo's shoulder, releasing a shaky breath. "I have no reason to turn you away, just like you never turn me away, when I come to you to ask for your affections."

"That's different," Thorin breathed on Bilbo's neck, even as his calloused fingers were already working on the wooden buttons of Bilbo's shirt. "It's enjoyable to make love to someone like you, but it must be difficult to let someone like me take pleasure in touching you. Sometimes I feel like I should send you back to your Bag End, far away from me. I do not wish to corrupt you, Bilbo. A being of light should not live in the shadows of a mountain, regardless of how beautiful the mountain is."

"We've talked about this already, haven't we," Bilbo sighed. "You know how much I miss Bag End, but if you made me leave, I would miss you and... everyone even more so. It would be a constant pain in my heart – I'd much rather be 'corrupted' than lonely and heartbroken. Besides, I like to touch you just as much as you like to touch me. You are quite desirable in your own, occasionally grumpy way, and I do love our shared moments."

With a thoughtful hum, Thorin began to pull Bilbo's shirt off, one sleeve at a time. Bilbo's left hand got caught in the sleeve, but after a bit off wriggling and uncuffing cuff links, they managed to get the shirt off completely.

"You could wriggle your pants off," Thorin suggested, and although his shoulders were still tense, a twinkle of mischief had appeared in his eye. "It should look very amusing indeed."

"Oh, so you want your gratification in a form of laughter?" Bilbo teased and craned his neck to press their noses together. "Very well, then, my king – look at this!"

He squinted and made the silliest of faces, coaxing Thorin into chuckling. Shaking his head in an affectionate manner, Thorin put a hand on Bilbo's chest and pushed him down.

"Today, my édes, my time with you is limited, as I have to go back to the negotiations in a moment or so," the king admitted, his voice laced with regret. "I fear that if I don't find my release before that, I just might be frustrated enough to split the head of that _grrudcrest_ just to see whether it's actually as hollow and empty as it appears to be. I believe I can hear an echo in his ear every time I lean a bit closer. It is most annoying. _He_ is most annoying."

Bilbo assumed that Thorin was talking about Lord Bildan, but he wasn't going to ask what, exactly, "grrudcrest" meant, as it was obvious that it wasn't anything nice nor polite.

"How much time do we have before you have to go?" he asked instead, taking a hold of Thorin's biceps, stroking the muscular arms.

Thorin moved his left hand to rest on Bilbo's bare belly, while the fingers of his right hand found their way to the lacing of Bilbo's pants. Thorin untied the knot he found there and began to loosen the lacing, leaning down to press his lips against Bilbo's neck while he did it. Bilbo let go off the biceps, twining his arms arms around Thorin's neck instead. He could feel Thorin's hardness pressed against his thigh and the sensation made him shiver in anticipation.

"About as much as it takes for that _fugrethbeth_ to lumber to his chamber to devour three barrels of food and then to be rolled back into the negotiation hall," Thorin murmured against Bilbo's skin, giving the soft flesh a bit of a bite, "so I'd say not much. Dwalin should come to inform me when all the negotiators are ready to continue."

"Ptp-_Dwalin_?" Bilbo asked, blowing Thorin's wandering hair out of his mouth. "You shouldn't make Dwalin run around, not while his leg is still healing."

While on a patrol, Dwalin and his dwarves had encountered a couple of wandering orcs. The orcs had claimed that they were simply looking for work, but as soon as Dwalin had glanced away, one of the orcs had seized his leg with his (or hers) teeth. The wound had become infected and it had taken quite a while for Dwalin to get back to his feet, although the dwarf had been very stoic about the whole ordeal, not complaining once.

"There are other dwarves you could have asked, Thorin. All Dwalin should now do is resting. Why didn't you ask, for instance, Fili or Kili to inform you when everyone is ready to continue the negotiations?"

Thorin abandoned Bilbo's neck in order to sit up. Taking a firm hold of Bilbo's hips, he lifted Bilbo just enough to pull the pants off and throw them onto the floor, before lowering himself on top of the hobbit once more. Bilbo inhaled sharply when Thorin's want, hot and hard and demanding, poked the bare, soft skin of his right thigh. He moved his groin to meet Thorin's and the king let out a grunt.

"I _did_ ask Fili," Thorin defended himself, his focus on nibbling and kissing Bilbo's neck once more, "but he said he would rather blind himself with his bare fingers than to look for me again. It appears that he is still quite upset about walking in on us the other day."

"Can't really blame him," Bilbo mused, feeling a bit guilty. "We were louder and messier than usual, weren't we. Must have been horrible for him to see. It also explains why he looks so nauseous whenever I'm drinking buttermilk, or anything white, really. Poor Fili. I don't know whether we should talk to him about it, or whether we should just give him time to get over it by himself. I don't know if he has talked about it with Kili, but knowing the two of them-"

"I would _appreciate_ it, if you were to stop talking about my nephews," Thorin interrupted, gruff and annoyed and very impatient. "I do not wish to be thinking about them in a moment like this, not when I'm embracing you. I cannot perform if they are on my mind."

"Oh, of course not," Bilbo chuckled, reaching out a hand to tuck a wisp of hair behind Thorin's ear. "Apologies, my dear. Try to forget I mentioned them. Think about someone else."

"I'll do my best," Thorin said drily, running his hands along the hobbit's sides.

After that, they didn't talk much, Thorin too busy mouthing Bilbo's chest, while Bilbo knead his hands to the muscles of Thorin's back, rubbing and stroking and holding tightly. Thorin thrusted against Bilbo almost lazily, soft grunts of need and pleasure accompanying his every thrust.

"You could move a bit faster," Bilbo suggested, because he was already eager for More. "I thought you were in a hurry."

"If there is something worth cherishing, halfling, I always take my time, even if the time is scarce. I do not wish to devour any intimate moment spent with you. Devouring is for the likes of that pompous, aggravating, empty-headed..."

Bilbo sighed to himself, taking Thorin by the hair and forcing the king to raise his head. He pressed his lips against Thorin's, swallowing every word Thorin had been about to use to insult Lord Bildan. Thorin didn't seem too upset about being interrupted, as he immediately deepened the kiss, using his body to press Bilbo more firmly the mattress.

Thorin ran his tongue down Bilbo's chin and down his neck, all the way down to one of the two pink, sensitive circles on the hobbit's chest. He kissed the pink circle, humming, before making Bilbo gasp by suddenly sucking on it.

" You asked _me_," Bilbo panted, grasping Thorin's hair with both hands, "to gratify _you_. Yet, you are the... the one gratifying me. If you turned to your back, I could actually help you to get your release."

"I am content like this," Thorin mused, "but if you prefered it, I suppose we could change positions."

He twined his arms around Bilbo and rolled them around, causing the bed to squeak. Once on top, Bilbo sat up, his legs brushing Thorin's sides.

"As you're in a hurry," he said, "I'll have to make this quick. We can enjoy each other properly later, but right now I believe I should focus on saving Lord Bildan's life – it would be quite a hinder to the negotiations if his head was to be split by you, wouldn't it."

"It would, indeed," Thorin agreed, "although it would be a great pleasure as well."

"A momentary pleasure, I would think."

"All pleasures are momentary."

It was regrettably true. Pleasure only lasted for a moment, but Bilbo was determined to give Thorin a moment of pleasure, a moment of release.

Leaning down to give the king a thorough kiss, Bilbo let his fingers find their way down Thorin's heaving chest, down the hairy stomach, along the hip bone, until he could wrap his fingers around Thorin. Thorin's organ was throbbing and hot to touch, and Bilbo smiled into their kiss, stroking the hardness just the way he knew Thorin liked.

By the time Thorin was leaking and ready to find his release, Bilbo withdrew his hand. He reached for the ointment in the nightstand and took a generous amount of it onto his fingers. Thorin had put his hands on Bilbo's hips, his hold more of a caress than anything else. They were both breathing heavily, Thorin perhaps even more so.

Bilbo prepared himself hastily, focusing on spreading instead of finding pleasure, as he didn't want Thorin to fall too far from the edge. Once Bilbo was certain that he couldn't harm himself, he took his position on Thorin's thighs, shifting so that he felt the throbbing want between his buttocks. He lowered himself down onto the slick, familiar hardness, prompting Thorin to grunt, inhale and let out a long litany of swearwords.

"_Hrot_, Bilbo," Thorin ended the litany, panting, his hold on Bilbo's hips now tight and almost bruising. "If anyone ever even _tries_ to take... to take you away from me, they will face my... my wrath. I will... I will gut them and _kill_ them. You are _mine_."

"And you're mine," Bilbo concluded, although Thorin really could have been talking about something other than killing, something nicer, considering their intimate situation.

Bilbo began to move – up and down, deep and slow, then faster, until both of them were shaking and swearing and _needing just a bit more_. Bilbo came first and collapsed onto Thorin's chest in a heap of satisfaction, while Thorin grunted in a very unsatisfied manner.

"I'm not quite gratified yet," Thorin complained, tapping Bilbo lightly on the shoulder.

"Yes, I can feel it," Bilbo murmured against Thorin's chest. "But I'm afraid I cannot help you with that, my muscles are far too relaxed for me to move them. You will have to do a bit of thrusting yourself, I think."

Thorin grumbled, although he didn't sound too disappointed, and pulled his erect organ out of Bilbo, rolling the hobbit onto his stomach. For the next few moments, he pounded into Bilbo, his breathing heavy and raspy, one of his hands grasping Bilbo by the hip while the other found its place on the soft flesh on Bilbo's side. Thorin shook when he finally found his release and sighed when he laid next to Bilbo.

They probably would have fallen asleep then hadn't it been for Dwalin and the insistent banging against the door.

"Thorin!" Dwalin called through the door, pounding on it like he was trying to slam his fist through the thick oak (Bilbo knew Thorin and Dwalin had a bit of a loud knocking competition going on, although neither one of them would admit it when asked). "We're ready to continue. Finish whatever you're doing in there and come – if you haven't already."

Pulling his limp organ out of Bilbo, Thorin gave Bilbo's shoulder a gentle kiss. Then he climbed off the squeaking bed and began to pick up his scattered clothes.

"I have already," he called to Dwalin, his voice jovial and relaxed, and Bilbo supposed Lord Bildan would be allowed to keep his head intact after all. "I will get dressed and follow you into the negotiation hall shortly. Go on ahead."

Yawning, Bilbo got off the bed and went to the bathing corner behind the screen. He took the plug out of the stone wall and warm water immediately spurted into the silvery tub – the piping system in Erebor was even more impressive than the one in Rivendell.

Bilbo was quick to clean himself with the water and Thorin followed the suit. Then, while Thorin got dressed, Bilbo went back to the bed and reached for _The Wind, the Grass and the Story of Delicious Apples_ by Burfus Barfus. He browsed through the book to the third chapter and twined the red thread around his finger to keep the book mark from getting lost.

Thorin, dressed and well-groomed, hesitated on the doorway, looking back at Bilbo.

"You are welcome to participate in the negotiations with me any time you like," Thorin said – as he had been saying for days, but Bilbo had to shake his head.

"I wouldn't be much of a help to you," he admitted reluctantly. "Even if I did understand something about politics, the negotiations are kept in Khuzdul and I don't speak it as you well know. But if there's something else I can do to help..."

"I suppose you could go keep company to Lord Bildan's son, Lord Duldan," Thorin suggested thoughtfully. "I have been informed that he's an enthusiastic diamonder, so you could ask him to play the Diamond and the Dice with you. Lord Bildan might be more willing to negotiate, if he knew his son wasn't as bored as he appears. He doesn't want his son to 'be bored', the exact reason why Lord Duldan is yet to participate in the negotiations."

Lord Duldan was a young fiery dwarf, only a decade or so older than Fili. Whereas his father was short, bulky and round like a white, hairy ball, Lord Duldan was dark and muscular, a capable warrior nearing his prime. Even though Bilbo was well aware of who Lord Duldan was, he hadn't yet had a chance to speak to the young dwarf, which was something he found very regrettable, as he always liked to get acquainted with Thorin's guests.

"I would be happy to keep Lord Duldan company," he decided, delighted at the chance to be of use as well as meeting Lord Duldan properly. "I'll go meet him immediately."

"Get dressed, first," Thorin said, quirking an eyebrow, as he looked Bilbo up and down with appreciation, although his hand was already on the door handle. "Your body is mine to watch – whenever you let me watch it – and I am selfish enough not to want to share the lovely sight."

Bilbo blushed at Thorin's possessiveness and flushed at the horribly indecent thought of walking undressed in front of _everyone_.

"I am not intending to make a spectacle of myself, Thorin Oakenshield," he huffed, "but thank you for your concern."

Thorin simply smirked, before he pushed the door open and left.

Bilbo closed _The Wind, the Grass and the Story of Delicious Apples_ – and swore to himself when he noticed that the red thread was still around his finger instead of between the pages. With a sigh, he put the thread into his pocket and the book onto the nightstand.


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour later, Bilbo found himself standing in front of Lord Duldan's guest chambers, a set of Diamond and Dice tucked carefully under his arm. He knocked on the chamber door and soon it opened, revealing Lord Duldan's female companion, Lady Margis.

Lady Margis was short and stout, her black whiskers long and skillfully braided. Her brown eyes lingered on Bilbo's hairy feet, as she looked at Bilbo from head to toe, her large nose wrinkling with disdain.

"You are _Hobbit Under the Mountain_," she spat Bilbo's official title like a curse. "I do recognize you. What business do you have here?"

Bilbo was so taken aback by the lady's hostile demeanour that he would have been left gaping had he been anyone but a well-raised Baggins. As it happened, he was giving the lady a small bow before he even realized it, polite words leaving his lips before he could think anything more Tookish to say.

"I am Bilbo Baggins," he introduced himself. "Or, indeed, Hobbit Under the Mountain, as called by some. At your service, Lady Margis – I recognize you from the initial introductions as well. I am here to meet Lord Duldan, as I was wondering if he would like to play Diamond and Dice with me. I hear he's an enthusiastic diamonder."

"I see," the lady said drily, motioning for Bilbo to come in and opening the door wide enough for Bilbo to slip inside.

"Duldy dear!" she called in a sugary voice once Bilbo had entered the chamber. "_Hobbit_ Under the Mountain is here to meet you!"

She added something in Khuzdul, giving Bilbo a quick, appraising look, before closing the door behind them. The closing of the door sounded oddly ominous and Bilbo had a peculiar feeling that he had just been trapped in the guest chamber.

Suddenly a bit nervous, he glanced around. It wasn't a cozy chamber in any way but otherwise quite impressive. The ceiling was high and there were dozens of large pillars supporting it. The walls were of marble and full of skillfully made decorations. Furniture looked expensive but also very practical; everything one might need was there, but there was nothing that didn't need to be there. All in all, the chamber was exactly what any noble dwarf would expect from their guest chambers.

Lord Duldan appeared from behind the decorative screen that separated the rest of the chamber from what was apparently the bathing area. He was drying his hair with a bright red towel, his bare well-toned body flushed and glistening with water.

Bilbo had to admit that Lord Duldan was pleasant to gaze upon. He wasn't as tall as Thorin, but he did look like a warrior. His thighs and arms were very muscular and there were several scars all around his body, probably earned in various battles. His face was handsome in a timeless fashion, his black beard thick and oiled.

Studying Bilbo just as carefully as Bilbo was studying him, Lord Duldan came closer, wrapping the red towel around his hips to cover his groin.

"_Bald face_," Lord Duldan said, looming over Bilbo, a calculating look in his night blue eyes. "You are the hobbit that has the entire line of Durin doing his bidding."

"Uh, I'm Bilbo Baggins, the consort of King Thorin's," said Bilbo, not quite certain what to make of Lord Duldan's crude demeanour, "and a loyal friend to the young princes. I don't think there's any... bidding involved. Some betting, probably, yes – betting is always involved. But no bidding."

"Some bedding as well, I would think," Lord Duldan said, looking Bilbo up and down in a quite dismissive manner. "Though I must say that I cannot see what King Thorin sees in you. In my eyes, you are ugly and the lack of beard is simply disconcerting, as is the fact that your locks are as crooked as a heated bar made of two incompatible metals. In all honesty, I find you quite disgusting. You must have quite a talented mouth for the king to keep you around."

"I- uh, what?" Bilbo sputtered, bemused as he was by the lord's words. He couldn't tell if Lord Duldan was being rude on purpose, if his words had been meant as insults, or if the dwarf simply was thoughtless and crude by nature as some dwarves tended to be. In any case, Bilbo had been expecting to play a few games of Diamond and Dice with Lord Duldan, not to be insulted by him like this.

This was only the beginning, though Bilbo didn't yet know that.

"Be sure not to touch the halfling's face, my dear Margis," Lord Duldan said to Bilbo's further bewilderment. "You have such pretty whiskers and the baldness of the halfling's face might be contagious."

"Contagious baldness?" Lady Margis said, watching Bilbo warily. "No wonder Prince Kili has barely more than a stubble, if this creature is often pleasuring him with his infected mouth."

"Excuse me!" Bilbo cried, highly offended on both his and Kili's behalf. How _dared_ Lady Margis even _hint_ that Bilbo was having relations with a youngling like Kili! Bilbo was not the kind to steal anyone's innocence! He loved Kili like the dwarf was his own nephew and he would _never_ ever...

And to claim that hobbits were contagious! It was simply preposterous.

If Lord Bildan was anything like his son and Lady Margis, it was no wonder why Thorin had been so annoyed and tense when he had asked Bilbo to gratify him.

"Your words are very offending, my lady," Bilbo said, folding his arms on his chest. "Prince Kili is far too young to – and in any case, I would _never_ do anything... _suggestive_ with him."

The looks both Lord Duldan and Lady Margis were giving him were so full of malice and scorn that Bilbo found himself shivering. An unexpected wave of trepidation shot through him and suddenly he just wished for a quick departure. He felt terribly uncomfortable with the two dwarves and simply wanted to _get out_.

"I came here in friendship," Bilbo said, "but it seems that we will not part in such good terms. Good evening to you both."

Upset, Bilbo unfolded his arms and twirled towards the door, fully intending to leave the chamber before further insults could be given. He didn't manage to take three steps, however, when he was suddenly grabbed from behind. The set of Diamond and Dice fell from Bilbo's grip and scattered on the floor, small diamonds and rounded dices rolling all around as if they were eager to go to explore the chamber on their own.

Without warning, both of Bilbo's arms were pinned behind his back and he was being slammed against the hard surface of the cool marble wall. The pain on his front was immediate and enough to make him gasp.

"You dare turn your back on me!" Lord Duldan hissed in Bilbo's ear, his breath hot against Bilbo's neck, as he shoved Bilbo further to the wall. "You dare, you _scum_, you _bald face_!"

"Let go off me," Bilbo gasped, trying in vain to struggle free from Lord Duldan's grasp. "Why do you assault me like this? This is simply uncalled-for!"

Bilbo was pinned firmly between Lord Duldan and the wall, Lord Duldan's wet skin dampening the back of his clothes. The position caused Bilbo's abused front to throb with pain and Bilbo bit his lip to prevent himself from whimpering. His hands were being held in an uncomfortable angle and so Bilbo couldn't even scratch his assaulter.

The evening hadn't turned out to be anything like Bilbo had thought in advance.

And this was only just the beginning, though Bilbo didn't know it yet.

Shaken and shocked to be assaulted like this in the guest chambers of Erebor, Bilbo let out a call for help, hoping that someone would hear and come to his aid. He was cut off mid-yell when Lord Duldan wrapped his fingers tightly around his throat, cutting off his air, making it impossible for Bilbo to breathe.

"Look at this creature, Margis," Lord Duldan said, while Bilbo struggled for air, struggled to get free – it was for naught, as he was no match for the strong warrior. "This is a _halfling_, Margis. A halfling – half a man, not even a third of a dwarf. It is said that the brain of a halfling's is even smaller than a rabbit's brain, and while halflings may look pleasant with their soft, stout features, they are, in reality, pathetic, whimpering creatures. And they breed like rats. If King Thorin allowed a female hobbit to join this male one here, there would soon be more hobbits than dwarves in Erebor. Erebor would be infested with hobbits and hobbits would use their bodies and gentle words to make dwarves do their bidding for them."

Lord Duldan continued his speech, while Bilbo was choking. There were tears running down his cheeks and he couldn't breathe, could not _breathe_. He was desperate for air. He kicked Lord Duldan's shins, but he didn't have much of a leverage on his uncomfortable position, and so his kicks went either unnoticed or unacknowledged.

"Lovely feeling this," he heard Lord Duldan musing. "Feeling life leaving such small body."

"He looks so weak," Lady Margis observed, her voice eager and high-pitched like she was aroused by the situation. "Will you add his ears to your collections, my dear?"

"Not yet, at least," Lord Duldan said and then the two began to talk in Khuzdul.

Even if Bilbo had understood Khuzdul, he would have been unable to focus on their exchange, as his world was gradually coming to a halt due to his lack of oxygen. He was going limp and everything in his line of vision was slowly freezing in place, a sight as peculiar as it was unsettling. Distantly, Bilbo noted that he couldn't hear anything.

Suddenly he was being released. Lord Duldan let go off his throat and Bilbo could suck air into his lungs. Bilbo coughed and gasped and _breathed_, oh how he breathed! Movement and voices came back to his world and he was almost as thankful of that as he was horrified of what had just happened between him and Lord Duldan.

Lord Duldan was still pinning him against the wall and Bilbo felt terribly trapped. He _was_ terribly trapped.

"Thorin," Bilbo wheezed, "he will have your beard for this."

"Probably," Lord Duldan agreed, "if he was to find out, that is. As it happens, King Thorin _won't_ find out, because no-one is going to tell him. You won't tell him, my Margis won't tell him and I certainly won't tell him. We wouldn't want to risk the negotiations between our people, would we, bald face? If you were to accuse me of _anything_, my dear papa would get upset and Erebor would lose our friendship."

A sick feeling landed on Bilbo's stomach, making him dizzy and anxious. He could see truth in Lord Duldan's words: If Bilbo was to tell Thorin how Lord Duldan had been choking and assaulting him, Thorin would get furious. Thorin would get furious and Lord Duldan would be lucky if he only lost his beard by Thorin's hand for Thorin had made it clear, more than once, that Bilbo was under royal protection . No-one was to "touch Hobbit Under the Mountain." If Bilbo told Thorin, Thorin would make Lord Duldan face the consequences and Bilbo would be left in peace.

But while Bilbo would be left in peace, Lord Bildan would become furious of the treatment of his son, no matter justified or not. The dispute would become political and Erebor would lose an important ally. Erebor _would lose an ally_, and while none in Erebor would blame Bilbo for it, Bilbo would never be able to forgive himself for it.

If Bilbo was to choose between his own personal safety and the safety of Erebor and her people... well, that wasn't much of a choice, was it.

Bilbo felt helpless, and not just because he was trapped against the wall – Lord Duldan seemed to notice this for he chuckled, sounding pleased and satisfied with himself.

"Margis, dear," the lord said, as he ran a hand down Bilbo's sides as if wiping dirt off it. "Go put the soap ready, will you. I've been in such prolonged contact with this creature that I am in a dire need of proper scrubbing. We also need to give this room an airing, as his presence might have poisoned the air. And remind me to burn this towel. I will not use it again after it has been in contact with the halfling's clothes."

While Lady Margis hurried to do as she was asked, Bilbo gritted his teeth.

"You would do well to let me go now," he said.

To his surprise, Lord Duldan did let him slip from his grasp.

Seizing his opportunity, Bilbo hurried to the door, wrenched it open and left the chamber as quickly as he could. He ran all the way to the chambers he shared with Thorin. Once in the safety of the king's chambers, Bilbo collapsed against the door and hid his face behind his hands, taking deep calming breaths.

If only he had then known that this was just the beginning of his torment.

* * *

_A/N: Took me a while to update, sorry about that._

_I hope you liked the chapter! The part where Bilbo's being choked and it seems to him like the world is coming to a halt is based on my actual experience (though I wasn't being choked). It was pretty weird._


	3. Chapter 3

Bilbo stood in front of a mirror and took in the damage Lord Duldan had done to his body: there was a large angry bruise forming on his chest, red hand marks on his neck and similar marks on his arms. He looked pale and shaken, though there was a flame of anger in his eyes just waiting to set him ablaze.

Pressing his lips together into a tight, trembling line, Bilbo did his best to quell down his fear and anger. It wouldn't do for him to show fury or anguish over what had happened. It wouldn't do for him to show any signs of unease. If he didn't want Thorin to find out what Lord Duldan had done, if he didn't want for the negotiations to be ruined, then he simply had to keep his emotions in control, then he simply had to keep the attack a secret from Thorin.

Bilbo hated keeping secrets from Thorin.

Well, not all kinds of secrets. Some things he was quite happy to not let Thorin know. He had no trouble not telling Thorin what he was going to give him as a Yule gift, for example, but when it came to graver matters he felt terribly guilty and uneasy for not telling. Not telling felt like betrayal and Bilbo didn't want to betray Thorin.

But surely it wasn't betrayal if Bilbo kept something like this from Thorin to protect the kingdom, to protect the people of Erebor? After all, this way the only one getting hurt was Bilbo, but if Bilbo told Thorin what had happened and Lord Bildan refused to make a treaty with Thorin because of it, then it would be all of Erebor that was put in danger and not just one fairly unimportant hobbit. In any case, Bilbo couldn't endanger Erebor, _would_ never endanger her if it could be helped, no matter how much he hated keeping secrets from Thorin.

Shooting one last resigned look at his naked reflection, Bilbo turned away from the large mirror, before squaring his shoulders and marching determinedly to the bathtub. He had already filled the tub with cold water, and as a cold bath would help reducing the swelling of his bruised body, Bilbo climbed in with only the slightest bit of hesitation.

The Water. Was. Freezing.

It was _freezing_, and Bilbo wrapped his arms around his midsection. He was shivering – had started shivering as soon as he had sunk in – but instead of jumping out of the tub like he wished to do, he simply sank deeper, until the water reached his jaw and covered the hand marks on his neck.

There were quite a lot of bubbles all around him, but that was by no means an accident. Bilbo had, after all, poured a generous amount of bubble soap into the tub when filling it, as he needed something to cover himself in the inconvenient case that Thorin happened to burst into the chamber before Bilbo was done reducing the swelling: If Thorin was to come back early from the negotiations, he would see his consort taking a bubble bath which in itself was nothing out of the ordinary. Even if Thorin came closer, Bilbo could cover the bruises with bubbles and thus keep Thorin from noticing them. And if Thorin was to ask about the low temperature of the water, Bilbo could always lie and explain that he was simply trying to harden himself to cold due to the approaching winter.

In the end, Bilbo needn't have bothered with the bubbles, as it wasn't until almost eight hours later that Thorin finally came back from the negotiations, looking quite worn and exhausted. By that time, Bilbo had put on a high-necked nightgown (which was just perfect in the terms of covering bruises in bed – not that Bilbo had ever before noticed that particular feature) and formed a few more or less clever plans to distract Thorin from noticing that anything was amiss. Bilbo had even managed to eat a bit, though his throat was still hurting, and he had only dared to swallow some mild cinnamon gruel.

When Thorin entered their sleeping chamber, Bilbo was ready and prepared to face him (though not at all content with the way he was going to be withholding information). As soon as Thorin was close enough, Bilbo wrapped his arms around Thorin and attached himself to the king's front, so that Thorin couldn't see anything but the top of his head.

"Hey, love," he then murmured. He was perfectly aware of how unsteady and hoarse his voice was due to his being throttled, but Thorin didn't appear to pay it any mind, probably taking the hoarseness as sleepiness.

Fortunately, Thorin did seem quite tired himself, as he wrapped one arm securely around Bilbo, while raising his other hand to rub his eyes.

"Stay silent, my heart," Thorin groaned. "I've certainly heard enough talking for one day. I yearn for some solitude, though I don't mind you being present, as long as your presence is _silent_."

Bilbo felt relief flooding in. He knew from experience that if Thorin was on one of his "solitary moods", he wouldn't want to be a part of any kind of conversation, which meant that he didn't want Bilbo to talk, which in turn meant that he wouldn't be able to observe the hoarseness of Bilbo's voice. It also meant that Thorin would not be asking about Bilbo's (disappointing, horrible) evening, and thus keeping the encounter with Lord Duldan a secret from him would be that much easier.

That evening, it turned out, keeping secrets from Thorin was far easier than Bilbo would have predicted. Once Thorin was done with holding Bilbo close, he reached for the half-full gruel bowl that Bilbo had left on the nightstand and emptied it, not bothering with a spoon but simply slurping the gruel down with long gulps. Then he took off his clothes, grumbling to himself in annoyance, and not paying any attention to Bilbo who was picking up the clothes in proportion as he dropped them. Ordinarily Bilbo would have scolded Thorin from making such a mess, but this evening was different. This evening he didn't want to draw attention to himself, and so he just picked up the clothes, folded them neatly and placed them onto the drying board to dry from the day of usage, while Thorin went to wash and to relieve himself.

Afterwards, Bilbo laid down onto the bed next to Thorin. Wordlessly, Thorin sneaked a hand under Bilbo's nightgown and drew him closer, burying his face into the curly hair with a deep sigh. By the time their chamber servant, Old Hugor came by to stifle the flames of the candles, Thorin was fast asleep.

Bilbo listened to the quiet snores coming from behind his back, stroking the hand Thorin had placed on his belly. Though Bilbo had managed to keep his secret for at least one evening, he found himself disappointed. He would never tell – _could_ never tell, for the sake of Erebor – but he still wished that Thorin knew of Lord Duldan's deeds.

Though Bilbo lay awake for many long moments, he still awoke at his usual time in the morning, a few hours before they had to be up and about. Usually he would have then awakened Thorin too, so that they could snuggle for a bit and then began preparing for the new day. Today, however, Bilbo did no such thing – today, he did nothing. He didn't move, nor did he awaken Thorin, and simply laid in place, feeling quite nervous and regretful. He was going to sacrifice his favourite time of the day, Their Morning, their time together, so that Thorin would be in too much of a hurry to notice the bruises on his body.

Bilbo's longcase clock struck six, then seven, but it wasn't until half an hour later that Bilbo finally sat up.

"Thorin!" he cried, shaking the slumbering form next to him. "_Thorin_, it's half past seven already! We have _overslept_! We _overslept_!"

"..._orcen elves?_"

Startled, Thorin was up on his feet in a heartbeat. He grasped Bilbo by the arm, oblivious to the way Bilbo winced and tried to stifle a cry of pain as the callused fingers were wrapped around the bruise that Lord Duldan had left there the day before.

Before Bilbo had fully even come to realize that startling Thorin awake probably hadn't been his smartest idea, he was pushed down onto the floor, into the narrow gap between the bed and the nightstand, and Thorin was standing in front of him in a protective stance, a sharp dagger in his hand, ready to face anything or anyone who dared to attack them in their sleep.

"Orcs? Elves? _Orcen elves_?" croaked Thorin, scandalized in a drowsy sort of way, his head turning from side to side as he looked around the peaceful chamber.

"No, Thorin," Bilbo hurried to explain, rising up to his feet with the help of the nightstand, rubbing his aching arm. "No orcs, nor elves, nor 'orcen elves', whoever they are. I said we overslept, _overslept_, not 'orcen elves.' Overslept."

"What time is it?" asked Thorin and they both pretended he wasn't still regarding the shadows of the chamber with cautious distrust.

"Oh, it's, uh... it's half past seve-"

"HALF PAST _SEVEN_?"

That certainly shook Thorin out of his half-dream like state. He twirled around and put the dagger back into its sheath under the mattress before hurrying to his wardrobe. "Half past seven! The negotiations continue in fifteen minutes! Fifteen _minutes_! I'm going to be late, again, and that hagruf will be waiting, looking at me in that smug way of his... Why weren't we awakened? Where are all the servants?"

They hadn't had servants waking them up for months, as Bilbo had found that he could do it quite well himself, thank you very much (and Thorin had found that he prefered to be awakened by a hobbit rather than by a "good morning Your Highnesses, was your night satisfactory?"). Bilbo knew that Thorin was aware of these facts, so he left the questions unanswered.

Quietly, Bilbo climbed off the bed and went to help Thorin with the clothes, while carefully arranging his collar so that it wasn't revealing Lord Duldan's hand marks on his neck. Thorin was pulling clothes frantically out of the wardrobe and Bilbo helped him to put together a fine, suitable outfit. Then Bilbo hurried into a circular chamber that joined the king's chambers to all the other royal chambers.

The circular chamber – with plank flooring, with soft sofas and with bright alcoves that opened to the lively Market Hall far, far down below – was one of the rooms where Thorin and Bilbo often had casual meals with Fili and Kili. More often than not, all four of them enjoyed their breakfast there together. This morning, because of Bilbo's secret, Thorin had missed his nephews and the shared breakfast – Bilbo felt horribly guilty for that.

Still, some of the breakfast was still there even though the princes weren't, and so Bilbo snatched a plate and filled it with bacon, chicken wings, two kinds of cheese, bread and eggs.

Thorin was dressed and putting on his boots, when Bilbo returned to the sleeping chamber with the breakfast plate. After securing Orcrist onto his hip, Thorin accepted the offered plate with a curt but grateful nod.

"I'm so sorry, Thorin," Bilbo whispered, overcome with guilt. "I'm sorry for not waking you in time."

"Do not blame yourself," said Thorin and even Bombur would have been impressed with the way he could pronounce his words so clearly even with a mouth full of half-chewn bacon. "It is no duty of yours to wake me up, though you are often been kind to do so. I should be able to awaken by myself every now and then, and this serves as a good reminder of that."

"Nevertheless," Bilbo swallowed, wringing his hands, "I _am_ sorry. So sorry."

Thorin lifted Bilbo's lowered head by tapping him gently under the jaw. He then offered the hobbit a gentle smile, all the while devouring the food. The next moment, Thorin and the breakfast plate were gone from the sleeping chamber and Bilbo was left standing alone.

Though Bilbo had just ruined at least four mornings – as Fili and Kili had to be just as disappointed with Thorin not joining them for breakfast as Thorin had to be for not meeting them – he could still be somewhat satisfied with the fact that his secret was safe. Thorin hadn't had time to notice anything, just as Bilbo had planned.

Lord Duldan would not be facing his punishment that morning.

An hour later, after Bilbo had drunk some healing potion, eaten a bowl full of pudding and got dressed in a – yes, high-collared – blue tunic and simple trousers, he got his first visitor of the day. Thankfully, the visitor was a welcomed one, and so Bilbo could tell his heart to stop pounding so painfully fast.

Ori's face was smeared with ink and sweat, but the grin that brightened his face as he entered the royal living chambers was carefree and full of pure happiness. His arms were so full of parchments that some of them were slipping out of his hold, falling softly down onto the floor, but Ori didn't seem to notice. Instead, he marched straight to one of the alcoves and dropped his load down onto the sofa, leaving Bilbo to pick up the fallen parchments after him – the concept of "tidiness" differed greatly between dwarves and hobbits, that Bilbo had realized a long time ago.

"There!" Ori announced, observing the parchments on the bench with noticeable satisfaction. "Latest edition of _Ereborian_, pressed and ready to be delivered."

Bilbo and Ori had been publishing _Ereborian _for almost three months already. It was a newspaper, of sorts, though each edition consisted only of one one-sided parchment. Still, one parchment was more than enough, as there were only three or four articles per edition as most of the dwarves couldn't be bothered to read more. As the idea of _Ereborian_ was to encourage dwarves to read and educate themselves, Bilbo and Ori wanted to make the paper as appealing to common dwarves as possible. For all they knew, _Ereborian_ was the first dwarven newspaper, and so it had to be treated as such.

"Very exciting, as usual," Ori said with his eyes sparkling, leaning down to give one of the parchments a careful brush. "Wouldn't you say so, Bilbo?"

Ori certainly seemed to think so, judging from the proud, confident way he was puffing out his chest while standing in the royal chambers. Usually, it took a lot of coaxing to get the shy scribe to even enter the place where Thorin resided, let alone to actually get him to come to stand on one of the alcoves. Now though, Thorin hadn't apparently even crossed Ori's mind, focused as he was on observing the parchments.

"Very exciting indeed," Bilbo croaked – and winced: his voice was still a bit hoarse from his being throttled.

Fortunately, Ori seemed to put the hoarseness down to the time of the day, probably assuming that Bilbo had only just woken up. He gave Bilbo an amused half-smile, before turning back to the parchments.

"Was the printing press working properly?" Bilbo asked to give the scribe something else to think about, just in case.

They had built the printing press together, just the two of them. Bilbo had made all the wooden parts, while Ori had forged the metal parts. The press wasn't anywhere near as good as the ones in the Shire, but it worked well enough. There was a heavy crank attached to it, and if one moved it fast enough, the press could produce one parchment in a matter of moments. Usually they did eighty parchments and put them on the noticeboards around the halls where dwarves could easily stop to read them.

"Oh, yes. Yes, it was," said Ori. "I had to put some more ink into it, but otherwise it worked like a miner with the scent of gold in his nose."

"That's good to hear. I was worried it might get jammed again."

"Yes, it would have been a pity if the edition had been published late," mused Ori with a slight frown. "Especially as we have such good articles in this one. The one you wrote about the new mead hall will be popular, I'm sure. I put it next to Dwalin's poem."

"Dwalin wrote a poem?" Bilbo wondered out loud, astonished, reaching for one of the _Ereborians_ to see for himself.

And indeed – there, next to Bilbo's article about the _Mead, Bed and Beads_, right under the news section

(_Healer threatened by thief with flail in Green Halls_

_Elves to come to Erebor to study braiding?_)

was a short poem written by "Lord Dwalin, son of Fundin, the First One of His Highness' Warriors." It went like this,

_I like birds with wings,_

_both on the sky and on my plate._

_First they hatch,_

_then become hatchlings._

_Then they eat_

_and then they mate._

_(Then I eat them._

_With custard._

_Preferably roasted.)_

"I'm very proud of him," said Ori, looking at an _Ereborian_ of his own. "Though you really should have seen the amount of parchments he used when he tried to come up with the rhymes. By the time this version was finally finished, he had a small hill of grumbled parchments surrounding him. But he was so happy when he gave this one to me, and though he said that the last three lines weren't actually a part of the poem, he insisted that they should be included for the sake of 'the truth.'"

"Truth is indeed important," said Bilbo with sincerity, and then instantly felt a stab of guilt in his heart, as he remembered that he wasn't currently being truthful with Thorin. To get something else to think about, he hurried to continue, "Dwalin's poem might encourage other dwarves to write something of their own."

"It might," Ori agreed, "though I believe that most dwarves are still more interested in becoming the _Dwarf Under the Mountain of the Month_, rather than writing something by themselves."

Once a month, Ori and Bilbo chose "Dwarf Under the Mountain of the Month" and interviewed the said person for their newspaper. The first _Dwarf Under the Mountain of the Month_ had been a cook called Birun who made excellent rabbit stew. After the words of Birun, a relatively ordinary dwarf, had been put in writing and placed for everyone to see, the unofficial title of _Dwarf Under the Mountain of the Month_ had become very appealing to the dwarves of Erebor. Everyone wanted to become _Dwarf Under the Mountain of the Month_, and Thorin had been quite upset when he hadn't yet been given the title. For the first two weeks after the publishing of the first _Ereborian_, he had looked at Bilbo with a scowl on his face, demanding to know why he hadn't been chosen, why Bilbo didn't consider him worthy enough to be _Dwarf Under the Mountain of the Month_.

In any case, _Ereborian_ was certainly encouraging dwarves to read (at least a few articles every now and then).

"Publishing a newspaper was indeed a good idea," Ori echoed Bilbo's thoughts.

For the first time that day, Bilbo smiled in earnest.

"What do you say, should we go put these up?"

"Oh, yes," said Ori, Bilbo's smile mirrored on his face.

Later when fastening _Ereborians _to the noticeboards, Bilbo did throw nervous glances behind his shoulder every now and then just in case of Lord Duldan. If Ori noticed something to be amiss with his friend, he was too enthusiastic with _Ereborian_ to comment.

* * *

_A/N: I really like the idea of a dwarven newspaper. But enough of me, it would be great to hear your thoughts! :)_


End file.
